A Poem: Familiar

We may feel familiar to one another,
predictable,
a known given.

And there is comfort
in registering each other’s patterns,
falling into tandem.

But when we are alone,
and the curtains are drawn,
who comes to the fore?

Who might surprise
even our own selves
with the un-veiling?

There is nothing so misleading
than a mask set
immovable.

That cannot register the constant
movement
within.

From the rapid flutter
as small as an eyelids
spasm,

to the great swell,
strong as the moon’s pull
on a turning tide.

Familiar,
predictable,
a given known we may seem.

But there is wonder
in perceiving past
appearances.

When we draw to a place alone,
we feel the underside
of our facades.

The craters, and the
mountains,
the deep flooded springs.

We might explore
regions not yet mapped or
discovered.

Lie there,
and be amazed.

Ana Lisa de Jong
July 2018

 

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